Desire in the Isles

by Roland Graeme

  “Did he get his ten pounds?” one of the other soldiers asked.

  “Hell, no! What he got was a week of latrine duty. And believe me, after a week of being down on his knees scrubbing toilets, he was more than ready to come crawling back to me, begging for my dick. I decided there was no point in holding a grudge, so I let him have it. All that kneeling he’d been doing was good practice. He sucked me off any time I wanted it after that, and for free. I got him to spread his buns and take it up the bum, too, and he loved it. The little bastard couldn’t get enough. He was my bitch, the whole time he was stationed here.”

  “A love story, in other words,” another of the drinkers joked.

  “And one with plenty of happy endings—for me, anyway.” Trent sucked down his drink in one hefty gulp and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “He wasn’t a bad fuck,” he concluded. “I was rather sorry when he got transferred out.”

  “I bet you didn’t have any trouble finding a replacement for him, though,” the dyke said.

  “No, I didn’t,” Trent admitted.

  “There’re plenty of guys on the base who’ll suck you off for free,” one of Trent’s drinking buddies said, with the same startling nonchalance. “They write their names and their cell phone numbers on the shithouse walls. All you have to do is give them a call and maybe show them a screen shot of your dick. Nine times out of ten, the guy’ll invite you to meet him somewhere out of the way on the base and he’ll go down on you. Or he’ll bend over and take your cock up his bum.”

  Trent glanced up. He happened to see Carter staring at him curiously, and the two men’s eyes locked for a long moment. Then Trent relaxed, shrugged his shoulders, and he grinned in that incredibly seductive way of his.

  “Well, that’s fine, if all you’re looking for is a quick, sordid hookup. But some guys don’t like to publicize it quite so blatantly, you know,” Trent remarked casually. “They prefer a little mystery. A little romance.”

  “Meaning what?” another soldier challenged Trent. “You and the other bloke exchange your real names before you shag him?”

  “That’s right,” Trent said. “So much more intimate than addressing each other as hey, you, don’t you think?”

  Carter wasn’t surprised when, a few minutes later, as the party started to wind down—it was getting late and most of the pub’s customers, whether military personnel or civilians, had to report to work early in the morning—Trent slid over onto the bar stool next his and offered to buy him a nightcap. Carter accepted, but he pointed out that they’d have to get to back to the base and go to bed soon there, themselves.

  “I know,” Trent sighed. “I’m starting to feel kind of bushed, myself. Hey, I hope I didn’t offend you with all that talk about cocksucking and bum fucking,” he teased the American.

  “No,” Carter replied. “It got me hot, as a matter of fact,” he admitted unblushingly. “I’d like to meet that hot, willing young recruit of yours.”

  Trent laughed, and he turned on his stool, so that his knee “accidentally” pressed against Carter’s thigh.

  “Will you settle for his hot, not so young, but extremely randy superior officer?”

  “Yeah. Even better, in my opinion.”

  “I know how you feel, Carter. I just can’t seem to help myself, stuck up here on this godforsaken island. I’m horny all the time. I’ll take on anybody, male or female. Listen—how’d you like to come to my room and smoke some weed? It’s this dynamite strain of grass that the local growers claim is stronger than any marijuana you can get anywhere else. I know it always turns me into an animal.”

  He grinned at Carter, and then he quickly licked his lips and pressed his knee into the cameraman’s thigh again.

  Carter brazenly returned the pressure by pushing his thigh harder against the guy’s knee. “Marijuana is cultivated this far north?” he asked.

  “Absolutely. And it does help you through the long winter nights. Hey, my being bisexual doesn’t turn you off, does it?” Trent demanded. Carter quickly admitted that it didn’t. “Good. You ready to go?”

  “Yes.”

  They, along with the other soldiers, took the last bus back to the base.

  As they walked to Trent’s quarters, on the far side of the compound, away from the barracks where the enlisted men slept, Carter deliberately fell a step behind to look at his pickup’s slim waist, the round firmness of his ass which his very tight uniform trousers emphasized almost obscenely, and his long, sturdily-muscled legs.

  “Wait,” Carter said, rousing himself from his homoerotic reverie. “It’s almost bedtime, isn’t it? The guys I’m with—they might worry about where I am, when I don’t join them.”

  “Oh, I can take care of that. Nothing simpler.” Trent accosted the first soldier they encountered, who saluted him. “You there, lad,” Trent told him.

  “Sir?” the boy replied.

  “Go to the barracks where the visitors are being up for the night, and tell them that their friend Mr. Burrell won’t be joining them for a while. Because I’m showing him about the base.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I hope you plan on showing me more than the base,” Carter told Trent, lewdly, after the young soldier went off on his errand.

  “Count on it. In fact, we’ll skip the whole tour and head directly for the highlight.”

  When Trent unlocked the door of his room and he let Carter precede him inside, Carter glanced down at the other man’s crotch and he could see the bulge of the stud corporal’s genitals almost splitting the seams of his uniform trousers. Carter wondered whether that recruit in Trent’s barroom story had needed to work hard for that money he’d hoped to earn but which he had been cheated out of—or whether sucking Trent’s big dick had been ample recompense all by itself. Then Trent looked up at Carter’s face and he saw that Carter was examining him.

  “What?” Trent asked, softly.

  “Nothing. You’re very handsome—that’s all.”

  “Thanks, Yank. But so are you. Come in. Make yourself at home, such as it is.”

  Entering the room, Carter saw that it was small and austere, scarcely more comfortable than the conditions in the barracks. Trent had a bunk, a desk with a chair, a locker, and, on the floor, a trunk. That was about all.

  Two items, however, provided a more personal touch. One was a photo in an easel frame on the desk. It was a head shot of a pretty young woman, with plump cheeks, red hair, and a shy smile.

  The other object was a poster thumbtacked on the wall over the bunk. It was a full-length photo of a young bodybuilder, naked except for a skimpy pair of black posing trunks, posing and flexing against a dark background. He had a sexy scowl on his handsome face, tousled black hair, and a coating of gleaming oil on all of his bulging muscles. The outline of his flaccid cock and equally relaxed balls could be glimpsed through the crotch piece of those tiny posing briefs.

  Trent noticed Carter looking at the photo on the desk. “My girlfriend,” he said.

  “She’s very pretty,” Carter said.

  “Yes, isn’t she? And she’s very sexy.”

  “Any children?”

  “Not yet. I suppose we’ll get married, some day.”

  “And this muscle stud?” Carter inquired, indicating the poster.

  “My boyfriend,” Trent informed him, casually. “He’s a weightlifter and a bodybuilder. Competes in physique contests. And he hustles on the side.”

  “I see. Do your girlfriend and he know about each other?”

  “Of course. We have threesomes, all the time. When I’m home on leave, that is.”

  “Interesting. Very open-minded, of all three of you. Ah—while you’re stuck here,” Carter asked. “Do the two of them hook up, during your absence?”

  “Of course not.” Trent sounded almost shocked. “That’s not how it works.”

  “Sorry. I don’t know how it works, never having been in that kind of a three-way relationship myself.”

  “You
don’t know what you’re missing, Carter. A hot woman and a hot man, both in bed with you at once. Truly the best of both worlds.”

  “Now you’re making me feel rather inadequate, because all I can offer you is one world,” Carter said. “And maybe a hemisphere, at the most.”

  The corporal laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m sure the two of us will manage just fine. Hey, do you want to smoke that pot I mentioned?”

  “Man, you’re just full of surprises!” Carter exclaimed. “Sure.”

  “I keep it hidden, here in the bottom of the trunk,” Trent said. Kneeling on the floor, he had already opened the trunk and begun to unpack it.

  “I wanted to ask you before, back there in the pub. Wherever do you get pot on this island? Does it have to be imported?”

  “No, not at all. One of the local crofters grows it. Outdoors, during the regular growing season, which admittedly is rather short. Indoors, in his barn, under artificial grow lights, during the winter months. He makes quite a science out of it. Trying different fertilizers, and so forth, and hybridizing the different strains of cannabis to get the most potent weed.” Trent pulled out his stash—a plastic zip-lock bag of weed, a packet of cigarette papers, and a disposable lighter. Deftly, he began to roll a joint. “Would you like to get comfortable before we smoke?” he asked, softly and insinuatingly.

  “You mean—get undressed? Sure.”

  “Make yourself at home, then.” Trent set the example by matter-of-factly starting to take off all his clothes.

  Carter quickly got his own clothes off and then he gazed admiringly at Trent’s nude body. It was a bit on the lean side, compared to the poster of his bodybuilder lover, but firm and hard-muscled in its own right.

  Trent lit up the joint as he watched Carter taking his clothes off.

  “You’re very sexy,” Trent said.

  “Thanks. So are you—especially now that you’re out of uniform.”

  “Most of the men I’ve tricked with here have been either young enlisted men or the local fishermen. The fisherman are tough blokes, but not all of them are in the best physical shape, although they usually make up for it with their enthusiasm. That’s why I’m so glad you came here. It’s a nice change to connect with another man my own age who has a truly sexy body.”

  “Something that I can see you’ve also been blessed with, along with a big dick,” Carter replied. He gazed hungrily at the officer’s phallic equipment and he decided that he couldn’t wait to see it get hard.

  Trent chuckled. “So neither of us is modest.”

  “Or shy.”

  “Thank God.” Trent handed the joint to Carter, who sucked the potent smoke down into his lungs. They shared the cigarette, standing there in front of each other nonchalantly naked—not talking, not even touching yet, but acutely aware of each other’s exciting physical presence in the small room.

  Carter suddenly realized that he already felt very high, even a little dizzy. He’d had several stiff drinks in rapid succession back there in the pub, and Trent hadn’t exaggerated—this native Scottish pot was potent stuff!

  As Trent finished the joint and crushed it out in an ashtray, Carter lay down on the bunk and, looking up again, he got a good look at the other man’s cock as it started to twitch and expand in the slow but steady process of spontaneous erection.

  Trent stood by the bunk for a moment, obviously enjoying the lewd sensation of feeling his own thick organ begin throbbing its way toward erection. Carter saw how big the other guy’s dick was getting, and he quickly took his own meaty prong in his hand and he began to stroke it, coaxing it into full hardness, and rubbing his swelling balls, too.

  “Don’t wank yourself too much,” Trent urged, in a throaty whisper. “Don’t come. Don’t waste it. Let me take care of that big hard thing for you.”

  Carter spread his legs. “Be my guest, soldier,” he groaned.

  “Shit,” Trent moaned. “Look at you! What a fucking stud. Don’t move. Let me get next to you—!”

  Trent stretched out on the bunk next to Carter and he started rubbing his solid erection against the American’s thigh and hip. Carter turned his body so that it faced Trent’s, and pressed his chest, crotch, and hard cock up close against him. Then he started rubbing himself back and forth against the unyielding rigidity of the corporal’s fuck tool—wondering how Trent’s girlfriend could possibly take such a big whang up her cunt without discomfort. Maybe she couldn’t take it at all—maybe that was why her stud lover had to go tom-catting around with his muscular bodybuilder fuck buddy at home, and also with experienced cocksuckers when he was stationed out here in the Western Islands.

  His lewd thoughts inflamed Carter, and he threw one arm around the other guy’s naked body and embraced him roughly, pressing their flesh together. As though encouraged by Carter’s gesture, Trent lost most of his momentary shyness and he reached over and began massaging Carter’s nipples, pulling at them and teasing them with his blunt-tipped, calloused fingers.

  He felt both of the big male tits begin to harden under his touch, and then he let his hand roam down Carter’s torso to his cock, which was now enormous in size and pointed straight and firm out from his body, pulsating visibly with its barely pent-in lust.

  “Oh, Jesus, you’ve got a big one,” Trent said in an urgent, excited whisper, staring at the prick which he was fondling in his hand. “That little pussy boy who sucked me off—he didn’t really turn me on. I didn’t want to do anything much with him, just get blown and shag his bottom. But you—shit! You’re a real man. I want us to do everything to each other, man. I want us to fuck and suck like animals!”

  “Play with my goddamn prick, if you want to fuck and suck so bad,” Carter moaned. “Oh, God, it feels good when you rub my meat like that! It’s almost as good as having a hot mouth on it, sucking it, or a nice tight asshole around it, squeezing it, milking the come right out of the fucker—!”

  “Yeah, talk dirty to me, tell me what you want me to do!” Trent hissed exultantly, rubbing the full length of Carter’s grotesquely swollen manhood with both hands now, pinching the head of the dick slightly. “Hey, lad, do you kiss?”

  “Of course,” Carter answered, surprised by the question.

  “Some of these men who insist they’re basically straight don’t. They’ll do anything else with another bloke—jerk off, suck, fuck, rim—but not kiss.”

  “Well, then they’re fools, or liars and hypocrites. Guess what?” Carter asked. “I’m gay, and I’m not fucking ashamed of the fact. I like to do everything.”

  “Then kiss me, you hot man bitch, you!”

  They kissed, fiercely, feverishly, lips locked together, tongues dueling.

  “Fuck, ah fuck,” Trent breathed, against Carter’s mouth. “Ah, you’re doing it to me, you motherfucker. You’re getting me so goddamn hot. You’re so sweet—!”

  All of this hot, teasing foreplay was obviously turning Trent on, and he jerked his hips restlessly back and forth, shoving his prick into Carter’s steadily massaging hand.

  Carter felt underneath the other man’s sweaty groin, running his hand under Trent’s balls and back into the furry valley which lay between his excitingly hard, spherical buttocks. Trent instantly spread his legs apart, resting his weight on one thigh but throwing the other high in the air, so that Carter could run his warm palm and exploring fingers all along his anal groove.

  The Yank was forced to admit to himself that he was getting exceptionally turned on by this Scottish guy. It wasn’t just the sheer, raw physical horniness which had built up in his balls during his past few days of uncharacteristic—for him—abstinence from sex, on board the Rock Dove. True, Carter had tricked with Stash. But that encounter, satisfying though it was, had only reminded him that he was used to obtaining sexual relief on a regular basis, and with a variety of partners.

  Maybe it was the fact that Trent was a self-proclaimed bisexual, who undoubtedly screwed as many women as he could sweet-talk into spreading their legs a
nd opening their cunts for him, but who also banged men on a regular basis, which was giving Carter a perverse kind of pleasure. Trent was the epitome, the very definition, of a man slut. And his lewdness brought out the male animal in Carter.

  Whatever the explanation, Carter was really getting off on sharing his body with this butch number, who was responding to the American gay stud’s advances as though he, too, had been starved for sex.

  So, when he found Trent’s asshole and he began to finger it, Carter wasn’t surprised to find his own cock beginning to pulsate and throb with a spontaneous, all but uncontrollable, impetuosity of desire.

  Meanwhile, Trent seemed to be driven berserk by his new sex partner’s slow, expert initial explorations of his body. He was getting hotter and hotter, and he was thrusting himself at Carter harder, more insistently, silently begging the other naked man to make love to him in any way Carter chose to satisfy himself.

  He felt Carter’s finger touch his asshole and his eloquent body language, combined with his obscene grunts and pants of passion, made it clear that he wanted Carter to spread his buns, ram that finger right up his asshole, and take him at will, while he lay back, spread-legged, accepting it all gratefully.

  Carter speculated that most of the men with whom Trent had tricked since he’d been assigned to this remote military outpost had been willing enough to play around with another male, but perhaps they confined to themselves to mutual jobs, or to being blown. Guys who identified as straight might shy about going down on a man—especially a guy hung as heavily as the stud Glaswegian—and some of them would have been shocked at the very mention of anal stimulation as a source of erotic pleasure. So Carter understood why Trent exulted in Carter’s uninhibited use of his asshole.

  Then Carter started sucking on his cock, licking it all over first and letting his hot tongue drip its saliva down all over the hard length of the big stiff penis. His tongue began lapping more forcefully at the shaft of Trent’s cock, and as Carter took it into his mouth and he began sucking it savagely, the corporal groaned and he turned his body so that he was lying flat on the bed.